


sorry, princess

by komet



Category: The Brave (TV 2017)
Genre: Nicknames, Team Dynamics, just smth light hearted and fun, this is silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-23 22:35:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13199973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/komet/pseuds/komet
Summary: dalton calls mcg princess on a mission, and it sticks. mcg wonders why his friends are the way they are.





	sorry, princess

**Author's Note:**

> so e10 is coming and once it’s here it will hit like a sledge hammer so !!! i need something nice and I was talking w a friend and we came up with this so I wrote a short little fic :’) enjoy

McG doesn’t know why the princess thing still exists.

_“Top, it’s a bad idea and it ain’t gonna work, buddy. We don’t butt heads too often, but this is just—it’s not gonna happen.” McG had sighed, shaking his head as he turned his gaze away from his scope to look at Dalton. His CO returned his own dramatized sigh, though not moving his sights from his own scope._

_“Alright, look, princess, will you just do it? I’ll take care of the civilian, and you get in there and do your job.”_

_And Jaz’s scoff had crackled through the comm, “Yeah, get a move on, princess.”_

That’s how it started. He’s got no idea why it hasn’t ended. Ever since that op they’ve been calling him ‘princess’ at odd intervals. _They_ being mainly Jaz, sometimes Preach, and occasionally Dalton. McG was at least grateful that Amir wasn’t joining in, though he always caught the amused gleam in the smaller man’s eyes when the nickname was brought up.

_McGuire’d groaned, eyebrows raising incredulously. “Are you serious, Jaz? That’s dumb.”_

_She rolled her eyes, looking up at him with arms folded across her chest. She looked like she was going to say something and then thought of something else, and a slight smirk found its way onto her face. “Whatever, princess, you tell yourself what you want to.” She had quipped, patting McG on the chest in a sarcastically comforting way as she walked past him. He turned and looked at her, jaw dropped as he sputtered for a response._

_“Wh—you don’t just automatically win ‘cause you called me a princess,” he called after her, and she threw a grin over her shoulder before continuing to walk off in a manner that clearly suggested that she thought otherwise._

That’s how the team seemed to think they could win arguments (not that the group really argues often, it’s mostly just stupid stuff), find a quick source of entertainment, and just be goofs in general. McG isn’t actually particularly _bothered_ by it, it’s just that it’s been going on for too damn long. Okay, he’s a little bitter but it doesn’t make him mad or anything. Besides, the team’s pretty much forgotten about it anyway.

* * *

 McG takes his attention away from his sparring as Amir enters the room, which turns out to be a mistake in less than a second, because a boxing glove connects harshly with the side of his face with a loud smack. “Jaz, I swear,” he threatens emptily, rubbing at his cheekbone for a second as he raises an eyebrow at his smaller yet much faster opponent.

Jaz grins, spreading her arms unapologetically. “Hey, that was your fault. Never take your eyes off your opponent, big guy.”

“Yeah, yeah, I hear ya,” McGuire says, shaking his head as he unstraps his own gloves, determined to catch Amir before he can somehow evade him again. “Hey, Amir, buddy, how’s your ankle?” The medic asks, wiping his face with a towel before letting it drape around his neck.

During yesterday’s mission the smaller agent had had to jump the gun and make a quick dash for a door, but he’d rolled his ankle pretty bad in the process. Besides some swelling and pain when he walked, Amir was fine afterwards and he can walk pretty okay now, but McG doesn’t want him to strain the injury.

“It’s healed.” He answers shortly, looking over his shoulder at McG as he continues to reach up on the shelf for whatever he’s trying to grab. Joseph glances up, sees the box on the shelf and reaches around Amir to grab it for him, giving a good-natured scoff at the look he gets from his teammate. It says _I could’ve reached that_ plain as day.

“Let me see,” McGuire prompts, and Amir opens his mouth to probably give some excuse to avoid this, but Top cuts in from his seat in front of Patton. He’s trying his damndest to get the dog to listen to him again.

“Amir, just give the man what he wants or he’s gonna keep houndin’ you til you do,” Dalton advises, pretending he hadn’t just made a dog pun as he continues his mission to make Patton lay down. Preach is working on a radio at the same table, though he seems to be watching the dog and Top more than anything else.

McG gives his teammate a look confirming Top’s statement, and Amir gets the idea, sitting up on the counter to allow the medic to take a look. It’s still swollen, though not as bad as it had been yesterday. Still, he expected it to be better than it is now. “Hey, did you take this off the ice before you were supposed to? You suck at following my directions, you know that, Amir?” McG informs him, though there’s no malicious intent behind the words; he just wants Amir to heal properly and he’s tired of the man dodging medical treatment.

Amir hardly misses a beat. “Sorry, princess.”

McGuire gapes as Jaz’s laughter fills the room and Top chuckles. Preach makes no effort to hide his amused grin.

And for the next week, McG is not McG. He’s princess.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry I tagged Preach and let anyone down lmao but he’s. he’s there


End file.
